


Getting Away With It

by Gammarad



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Dubious consent to blood drinking, F/F, Modern-day Vampire AU of Undisclosed Fandom, Not-So-Stealth Crossover, Vampire Mesmerism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26451409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gammarad/pseuds/Gammarad
Summary: Annalise Keating is going to help yet another client get away with murder.(Takes place pre-canon)
Kudos: 2
Collections: We Die Like Fen 4: We Lived to Die Afen, We die afen and afen





	Getting Away With It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kimaracretak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/gifts).



> Thanks for your patience and indulgence, kimaracretak, for this late extra assignment turn-in. And for letting me write my vampire crossover idea.

Annalise had never been to this part of the prison before. When she'd represented a sitting congressman, he hadn't rated a meeting room like this one. She would, if you'd asked her even a half hour earlier, have sworn that there was absolutely no way that the medium-security prison even contained such a well-appointed, comfortable place, even for such things as conjugal visits for politically connected prisoners, or meetings between the warden and the governor. Prisons generally didn't. 

But here she was and here the room was and the general impression of luxury was unmistakable after the first moment. The first impression Annalise had was of the strange, downright eerie, look of her client's eyes. Which was peculiar because after she pulled her gaze away from the subtly patterned wallpaper, the low but soft carpet, the damask-upholstered sofa and the solid walnut table with two matching chairs, the furnishings that made the room look more appropriate for the home of one of Annalise's wealthier clients than a prison, Annalise could not see anything unusual at all about her client's hazel eyes. 

She was young, white, with sleek dark hair curled almost down to her shoulders, her face pretty even without makeup, the scar on her cheek the only asymmetry. She looked gentle and friendly, if a bit high-and-mighty for a prisoner, too unaware of her privilege to show the humility even most of Annalise's rich white clients managed when they'd been arraigned for murder.

As she'd been walking through the less attractive parts of the prison on her way to this lovely room, Annalise had really, really wanted a drink. Now that urge had left her entirely. It was probably just the dismal prison environment bringing the thoughts on, she considered. If it turned out to be an issue she could talk about it with her sponsor sometime. 

She often told herself she could talk to her sponsor about various concerns, but never actually talked to her sponsor about any of them. Annalise could handle her addiction herself -- why put herself through telling someone about the little mishaps if she could handle it herself. No reason at all. Annalise started the interview on autopilot while having these thoughts. It wasn't until the client said something she hadn't expected that she fully tuned back in.

"I had to do it." The pleasantries hadn't lasted long -- Annalise didn't believe in wasting time. They were seated side by side on the sofa at the client's insistence. "It wasn't murder. It was assisted suicide."

"Do you have evidence?" Annalise watched her client's expression. It was gentle. She saw how someone like this would be a comforting companion to a dying person. Thing was, as far as she knew, Mrs. Zash hadn't been dying. 

"She was ready to go. She left papers, they should have been enough. You can fix it, can't you? She wanted me to have her life."

"I thought you were her nurse, Ms. Kallig." Annalise narrowed her eyes. "If you and she were involved and you kept it secret, the prosecution will use that against you."

"It wasn't like that." Annalise had seen many clients lie, often about affairs, and she had her suspicions, but this one was giving nothing away. "She was like a daughter, rather, she viewed me as her daughter. She had begun the process of adopting me, but her sickness came on too fast for her to complete the paperwork." 

"If you killed her, you won't inherit." 

"If I'm convicted of murdering her," the client corrected. 

Annalise thought she should have been angry. She didn't care to be lectured on law by a client, but somehow...

"I had to do it," the client repeated softly. She put her hand on Annalise's arm. 

She shouldn't let a client touch her like that. Especially in a prison interview room, where cameras were probably watching every move, supposedly for her safety. But Annalise found herself mesmerized. She thought again of how the client's eyes had looked so eerie when she first entered, catching her unaware, before they'd changed to the entirely average hazel. She was aware of the pulse in her throat now, and as it beat, the client's eyes changed, eerie, normal, chartreuse, hazel, changing with each throb of her carotid artery. 

"I'll show you," the client said, voice so soft Annalise wasn't sure she was hearing it or reading it from those lips, redder now than they had looked earlier, softer, fuller, bending under the sharper teeth, who had teeth like that? The client bent her mouth to Annalise's neck and Annalise couldn't see her eyes anymore, could only feel the lips pressing against that pulse in her neck, a sharp quick pain that was gone before she really was sure it had been there, and her heart started to race. 

Annalise had been under the influence of enough legal and illegal substances to know a drugged high when she felt one. This was not any drug she'd ever used, though, but it was good. Show you, were the last words the client had said, moments ago, forever ago, and when the high faded she wondered if she'd been slipped something hallucinogenic, because that couldn't possibly have happened. The client was so pretty, so gentle and sweet. A good nurse. A good daughter to the dead woman, who hadn't been a victim at all. 

"She was dying, and you had to let her go," Annalise said, knowing the story now, though she couldn't remember how she knew. Maybe while she was having that hallucination, the client had been telling her the story, and she remembered it though not hearing it? That seemed possible. "She wanted you to have her life. Anyone would want you to have their life," Annalise added. If only her own life was worth having, she would offer it. 

"That's right," the client said. "So I'll change my name to Zash, as she wanted when she decided to adopt me. And I'll inherit her things. All you have to do is clear up this misunderstanding about it being murder." 

"It's what she wanted," Annalise echoed. She touched the woman's cheek gently. "I can do this for you. I'm the best."

"I know you are," the client said. "That's why I chose you." She smiled such a radiant smile. Her eyes weren't eerie, they were beautiful in that inhumanly bright yellow-green glow. Gorgeous. 

She left, to go do her job and get this innocent person's charges dropped. Annalise hoped she'd get a chance to visit the client again, either in prison or, better, in her home. She wasn't sure why that felt like such a wonderful treat to look forward to, but it did. She wondered if she ought to see the warden about whatever drug she'd been dosed with, but the effects had completely worn off now, so perhaps there was no reason to do that. If it turned out to be an issue she could always talk about it with her sponsor.


End file.
